There's No Place Like It
Ninth in the "Spinning Wheels" series.
Other fan fiction by Alexandra Huxley

SPOILER: Grave (6th season)

Warnings and disclaimers:
1) If you're a Riley hater, don't bother reading this fic; everyone else, enjoy.
2) The story's mine, but the characters in this piece belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Inc., and a lot of other people who are not me.

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After getting Giles' assurances that the Willow threat was over, Riley called in from Buffy's house. According to Colonel Vaughan, things seemed under control all around and she'd already called most of the squads back in. She had scheduled a debriefing for the next morning and told Riley she didn't want to see him before then.

"But, Colonel, I-"

"Take the damn day off, Riley," she ordered. "You earned it."

"Yes, ma'am."

He hung up the phone and went into the living room. To Kaplan, he said, "It's over."

"Yeah, I figured." She smiled.

"Does that mean I can go home now?" Clem asked.

"Me, too," Anya said. "I'd like to go home now."

Riley nodded. He gestured to the door. "After-"

The door burst open and Buffy came running in. "Xander? Will-" She stopped abruptly when she saw Giles sitting in the chair. "Oh," she said, quietly, her hand at her mouth. "You're not..." She crossed the distance between them and kneeled down, hugging him. "Anya said..."

Giles hugged her back as best he could. Within seconds he was engulfed by Dawn's arms, too. "Buffy. Dawn," he said, his voice muffled. "Air, please."

They pulled back, laughing and crying at the same time. Buffy gave him one more quick hug before saying, "It was Xander, wasn't it? Xander stopped her."

Giles nodded.

Buffy wiped away her tears as she stood. She turned and hugged Anya first; Clem next. "You are so lucky that Dawn is o.k."

Clem shrugged and gave her a nervous smile.

Buffy bent down to Kaplan, who was sitting on the edge of the couch, and hugged her, too. "I don't have any idea who you are, but thank you for whatever you did." Turning to Riley, Buffy touched her hand to an ugly scratch on his forehead. "Rough night?"

Riley smiled. God, was it good to see her. "Had worse."

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around him. "Please tell me you don't have to go anywhere right now. Can you stay? For a little while at least?"

He leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "No place I'd rather be."

Buffy pulled away from him, her hand lingering on his arm as she turned back to the others. "Has anyone talked to Xander or Willow? I should go find them."

"Buffy," Giles said, "I think Xander will call when Willow's ready. This may take some time."

She obviously wasn't happy with that response. "But-"

"I know," Giles answered. "But Willow needs time, as do we all. The best thing to do right now is get some rest."

Buffy looked down. "You're saying she doesn't want to see me."

Giles put his hand out to her. "I think she'd rather not see any of us. Wait until Xander calls; I'm sure we'll hear from him soon. In the meantime, I don't suppose you have any of that tea I sent you for Christmas?"

Buffy started for the kitchen but Dawn stopped her, saying, "I'll get it. Anyone else? Anything?"

Kaplan stood up, "Thank you. I think we should be going, though." To Riley she said, "I can take the others home if you'd like." She paused. "Well, if I can take your car. You have anything you want out of it?" After Riley nodded, she added, "I still think you should see a doctor."

"You're kidding, right?" came Graham's voice from the doorway. "Nice try, but he only sees a doctor when he's unconscious. Because that's the only time he doesn't have a choice."

"What are you doing here?" Riley asked, surprised. He'd had his back to the doorway and hadn't noticed Graham come in.

"He drove us home," Buffy said. "He saw us walking on the side of the road and picked us up. I was actually happy to see him." She smiled at Graham and got a smirk in return. "He has the day off. I told him he should stay here."

Riley looked at Buffy. He had to be honest, that was not at all the end result he'd expected. "You did?"

She shrugged. "Does that earn me a kiss?" Before he could answer, she had leaned against him and pulled his head down. "I missed you," she mumbled into his lips.

"Oh, gross," Dawn said as she came into the hall from the kitchen. "Is the world you're going to show me X-rated?"

Buffy pulled away from Riley and playfully knocked Dawn's shoulder. Dawn, in the process of dodging Buffy, spilled the tea all over Giles. It was nice to see them all laughing and yelling like that. There'd been some of that over the last few weeks; not enough, though.

Riley followed Kaplan outside and grabbed his things out of the car. One of the first things he had learned in Belize was to always have an overnight bag stashed somewhere, ready to go. Clean clothes, dry shoes, and a few other things that never failed to come in handy. When he came back inside, he found Graham heading up the stairs.

"They said I could crash in Dawn's room," Graham said, nodding towards the living room. "I figured I'd find my own way."

Riley looked in to see Buffy holding Dawn tightly as they sat on the couch. It seemed that the laughter had disappeared as quickly as it came. Giles had pulled his chair over to them and was leaning in, speaking quietly to Dawn as she cried. Clearly not a time for outsiders.

"I'll show you the way," Riley said. Once they were upstairs he turned to Graham, ready for a repeat of the Buffy lecture. "O.k. Let's hear it."

"Hear what?" Graham asked.

"I don't know," Riley answered. "Whatever disapproving thing you're about to say."

Graham shook his head. "Not today. I'm so fucking tired and sore right now that I really don't give a rat's ass about anything other than a soft, warm bed."

Riley laughed. "So eloquent." He turned to leave the room, but stopped when Graham spoke.

"I always liked her, Ri.   Hated what she did to you..." Graham held up his hand as Riley started to protest. "Fine. What you did to yourself. Whatever. But if you can make this work, then I'm all for it. Just don't screw it up." Graham closed the door in Riley's face.

Don't screw it up. Right. Thanks for the advice, Graham.

Riley took his backpack into the bathroom and put it on the floor. This was not going to be fun. The EMT had done a cursory job of cleaning and disinfecting, but Riley had been impatient and had insisted on the absolute minimum. Which of course meant that everything hurt that much more now. And the longer he waited, the worse it would get.

He hated this part, though. He hated looking in the mirror and seeing the scar. Sam always said it was a badge to be worn proudly -- an indication of how far he had come. The only thing Riley could see was a sign of how far he had fallen.

Just look in the damn mirror.

He was surprised to see that his face wasn't too bad. His jaw would probably turn black and blue, and there was an ugly scratch above his right eye, but other than that, not much.

Riley peeled off his shirt. That was another story. There was already a nasty bruise right above his hip, where he had taken the brunt of the punches. And a big, red mark on his chest where they had slammed him into the car.   He turned so he could see his back -- a bad scrape right below his shoulder where he had gone into the wall. And he must have connected with some broken glass because there was a bloody streak across his back where his skin looked almost shredded.

Though it should probably hurt a lot more, he wasn't totally surprised that it didn't. The pain meds hadn't completely worn off and he was still buzzed from the fighting. After a night like that he figured he still had a few hours before the crash.

"Wow. What does the other guy look like?"

Riley turned to see Buffy standing in the doorway. "Guys plural," he said. "Dusty. And, um, don't you knock?"

She came into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. "Door was open."

Of course it was. Nice, Ri. Good thing you only stripped down to the shirt. "Sorry. Guess I'm used to-"

"Sam?" she asked in what seemed like a forced way.

That hadn't actually been what he was about to say. "Communal living." As in with a bunch of Army guys. "Most of the time we didn't even have doors."

"Blech," she said, wrinkling her nose.

He laughed. "Tell me about it." Wasn't exactly his cup of tea, either. And speaking of tea and those who had recently spilled it... "How's Dawn?"

"Sad, tired, hurt." Buffy shrugged. "She'll live."

"What are you doing?" Riley asked, moving aside when Buffy bent down and started rummaging through the cabinet under the sink.

She pulled out disinfectant, bandages, towels, and a bag of cotton balls. "I used to have this boyfriend who had combat medical training. He went to Belize and all I got were these lousy supplies. They have come in handy, though. Sit." She smiled and pointed to the edge of the bathtub. "Back first." It took her twenty minutes to clean the glass and gravel out of his back. "See why I wanted a normal guy?" she muttered. "Most dates don't require basic medical."

Somehow, Riley couldn't imagine any date of Buffy's ever being without medical. "Could you concentrate less on talking and more on being gentle?" he asked through clenched teeth. Pain was one thing; Slayer-strength industrious wound cleaning was another. Still, having Buffy's hands all over him? Never a bad thing.

"Turn around," she said when she was done with his back. "Why are you smiling like that?"

Had he been smiling? Yeah, probably. "I like having you as my nurse."

She grinned. "Really? Even without the outfit?"

Not a bad image. Not a bad image at all. "The outfit's o.k., but without is better."

"Tsk, tsk," she said, her grin broadening. "All in good time." She wet a washcloth and leaned down to clean the cut on his forehead.

A cut Riley could easily reach. "I can do that one."

"I know," she answered, pushing his hand away. "Done." She took a step back. "Anywhere else?"

Riley shook his head and stood up. "I can manage from here."

She caught his wrist. "Wait, there's more blood on your arm. Let me-" She stopped suddenly.

He looked down and saw that the blood from the bite had trailed down his arm. And instead of neat holes, there were two deep, jagged scratches that were still oozing.

"Got kind of heated, huh?" Buffy asked quietly, having obviously identified the bite as coming from a vampire.

"Guess you could say that." He poured some disinfectant over the bite, swearing as it burned.

"Is there some story behind that? Like maybe it just looks like a bite but it was really a stab from a serving fork wielded by an evil chef?" Her voice was soft; her eyes dark.

"No story," he said, watching her carefully. "And it wasn't by choice."

She didn't respond right away, but instead backed up against the wall. "Would you tell me if it was?"

"That's not going to happen again." He sat back down on the edge of the tub, knowing that he didn't come close to deserving her trust. That didn't mean he couldn't swear to her, "It will never happen again."

"Then how did it?" she snapped. "Happen, I mean."

"You know, the usual -- fight to the death, I got distracted, she bit me, I staked her." He tried not to sound annoyed. This wasn't Buffy's fault; he couldn't exactly blame her for her reaction. And yet his voice was definitely on the curt side. "I can give you the color commentary if you'd like, but that's pretty much it."

Her eyes got darker, voice harder. "That's not exactly usual. You never got bit before. I mean, well...before."

It was Riley's turn to be quiet. He looked down at the floor, thinking of what the vampire had said to him. "They know me, Buffy. It's like a challenge to them. Even the ones that never saw me there..." And the other vamps? The pleasure they'd taken in pummeling him? "I don't know. It's like they can sense it." Then again, he could have just pissed them off. It had been known to happen. He shook his head. "Maybe it's still there somewhere -- the hunger for it. Maybe they can smell it in my blood." As much as he hated to admit it, "Spike could probably-"

He looked up to find Buffy suddenly standing right in front of him. She bent down and kissed him, resting her hands lightly on his shoulders. He could taste the tears on her lips. "Buffy -- you're..." God. How many times could he possibly disappoint her? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"The scar," she said sadly, fingering the one on his neck. "You got that before you left, didn't you?"

Sandy's bite. The first one he'd gotten. Nodding slowly, he wasn't sure where she was going with this, but couldn't imagine it being anyplace good.

Unsurprisingly, she asked, "When?"

Someday he was going to have to tell her. And if she insisted, he wouldn't lie. Not right now, though. Unless she pushed it, not right now. "Could we just leave it at 'before'?"

He didn't expect the new rush of tears. Why would she be crying? Maybe it was the concussion; otherwise this made absolutely no sense to him. "Buffy?"

"I'm..." She sank to the floor in front of him, her head in her hands, crying softly. "I'm so... I'm so sorry I didn't know. Xander was..." she said, taking a deep breath and forcing the tears to stop. "I should've seen what was happening. I'm so sorry I didn't see."

"There were other things going on, Buffy," he said, careful to control his anger. She would think it was directed at her. She would be wrong. What a complete asshole he had been. "You shouldn't have had to. I should never have-"

"No. It wasn't you," she said, sniffling a little as she looked up at him. "It was never you. You were always there for me."

He couldn't meet her eyes. He couldn't listen to her take the blame for something that he had managed to fuck up pretty much on his own. "Could we just stop this?"

She looked up at him, seemingly surprised.

Why? By the bitterness in his voice? "Nothing about this will ever be your fault. Everything you said that night was..." So true. Harsh maybe, and yet so true. "I used to blame Spike for bringing you there, for forcing it. Thought I was so close to stopping. That if only I could have told you on my own..." He shook his head. "Yeah, there were things I wish had been different, but there were so many other paths. So many better paths than the one I chose." Every path was better than the one he chose. "Couldn't have come up with something worse if I tried."

Buffy reached her hand out and let it trail down his arm. "You could have tried to kill my friends. Like Angel did. Or Spike when he was... Before the chip. Or Willow, come to think of it. And me." She frowned and smiled at the same time. "So maybe not; it seemed like such a bad thing the first time around; now it's just a normal day at the office."

"You trying to make me feel better?" he asked. "'Cause that's not going to do it." Although it was nice of her to make the attempt.

"No, I guess not. That's just..." She pulled herself up so that her face was level with his. "Look -- I'm not kidding myself. It took both of us to mess things up." She held up her hand as he started to protest. "I'm not sure where we should have ended up. It wasn't there, though. Maybe someday we'll figure it all out, but isn't it enough right now that we want to? Isn't that a good thing?"

"I guess it's a start," he said slowly as he realized things had just taken an unexpected turn. And not a bad one.

"Because I really want to," she continued, her hand doing more of that trailing thing. "I want to figure this out. Maybe even later today. But I'm tired of talking right now. I am so done with talking."

This was not even close to where he thought their discussion was going to end up. Light years away. "What exactly did you have in mind?" He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, whispering, "I'm sorry I wasn't here for your bath."

A shadow passed over her face as her hand tensed. "You didn't miss anything."

That was clearly as much explanation as he was going to get. Which was o.k. with him because she'd decided to undo the button on his pants and pull down the zipper. Reaching behind him, she turned on the shower. She straightened up and pulled her shirt over her head.

"I just spent the night getting beat up by my best friend and watching her do horrible things to -- mostly -- good people," she said, unhooking her bra. "That was when I wasn't fighting dirt monsters and climbing out of a grave for the second time this year." She pushed her pants down over her hips and stepped out of them. "And I spent the last half hour looking at the half-naked man in my bathroom and wishing that the reason he had no clothes on was because he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I've decided there are much better things I can be doing with my time."

She kneeled down and bent forward, kissing right above the waistband of his pants. "Did that hurt?" she asked when he flinched.

Was she kidding? Watching her strip down to nothing did a lot to dull the pain. He grinned. "I can manage."

"Good." Buffy smiled and tugged at his pants, pulling them off him. She leaned down again and kissed the inside of his knee. "Because I'm so tired of being sad." She kissed him a few more times, working her way up his thigh. "I am so tired of everything being wrong." Her hand took hold of, well... And then her mouth, um...

"Jesus, Buffy," he said as her tongue went to work. He closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to brace himself against the slippery tile wall; the hot water spilled over his face and chest. Laughing as he fell backwards into the tub, he pulled her in on top of him and kissed her. "Didn't think that was going to work," he murmured into her mouth.

She stood up and pulled the shower curtain shut. "Oh, this will work." She reached out her hand to help him stand and pushed him back against the wall. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she moaned as he hiked her up and pulled her close. Lowering herself onto him slowly, she smiled as she watched his face. "You sure that doesn't hurt too much?"

Uh, no. That wasn't the problem. "I'll...deal."

"What hurts?" she asked, raising and then lowering herself back down. "When I do this?"

"No," he gasped. "When... I... breathe." Thanks to a couple of bruised ribs that were choosing now to make themselves known.

"Should I stop?" She raised herself until he was no longer inside her.

God, no. His turn to smile and her turn to gasp as he pulled her back down, not very gently. "Pain's good. Lets you know you're alive."

A smirk appeared on her face. "Oh, is that the secret?"

He cupped the back of her head and pulled her to him. "Buffy -- stop talking."

"O.k."

=======================================

Riley sat up slowly, his hand going to the bandage on his back. He was in obvious discomfort, which wasn't really surprising. His ribs, his jaw, his entire back -- everything seemed to be hurting him. It was never quite as easy to manage the pain when you were asleep.

Maybe he was in need of a little distraction. "Wanna go again?" she asked, smiling. She inched over and started to put her arms around him; she pulled back as he tensed.

"I didn't think I'd ever say this," he said, wincing, "but no. I don't think so."

Careful not to touch him anywhere else, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. She rolled out of bed and quickly pulled on some clothes. "Be right back," she said, heading into the bathroom to get him a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol.

He swallowed a few down and gave her back the glass. "Thanks."

She nodded. "Anything else?"

"Morphine?" he asked. It seemed he was only partly joking.

Smiling, she shook her head. "Sorry. Fresh out."

He turned to the window slowly, his hand painfully going to the back of his head. "What time is it?"

Glancing at the clock, she answered, "Four. Are you hungry?"

A look of distate passed over his face as he eased back down to the bed. "No."

She could understand that feeling -- when even the thought of food made you feel sick. She, however, wasn't feeling that at the moment. Ravenous was more where she was at. "I am. I'm going downstairs." She kissed him again and left him in her room, closing the door behind her. She started to go downstairs, but stopped and turned around instead.  

She could smell the stench of blood and death as soon as she opened the door to Willow's room. Funny how it was something she dealt with every day, and yet this time she couldn't bear it. She backed out quickly and closed the door, her hand covering her mouth. Throwing up would do nothing for the cause.

Even if the carpet were pulled up and the window fixed, would Willow ever be able to step foot in this room again? In the first week after her mom died, Buffy had avoided the living room whenever possible. After that, though, it had been the only place where she could find comfort -- lying on the couch, hugging the pillows to her chest, clinging to the faint scent of her mother's perfume. Still, she had never quite managed to tackle her mother's bedroom; it was almost a relief to come back and see that Willow and Tara had taken it over.

Buffy wiped the tears from her eyes. She couldn't be there anymore. Tara's death in her mother's room. Too much.

She went downstairs, peeking her head in the living room as she passed -- with a movie still playing on TV, Dawn was asleep on the couch and Giles in the chair. Buffy wandered into the kitchen and looked in the refrigerator. Nothing. Nothing even remotely appetizing. Not in the cabinets, either.

Checking the answering machine, she heard the beginning of a call from Xander, one Giles had picked up halfway through the message. She grabbed the phone and headed out the back door, dialing Xander's number, only to have his machine answer. She almost didn't leave a message but finally said, "Hi. It's me. I'm just calling to-"

"Buffy?"

Tears sprang to her eyes. She couldn't believe how good it was to hear his voice. "Xander -- are you o.k.?"

"A little sore," he said. "You?"

"Doing o.k." Buffy paused before saying, "How is she?" It was so hard to ask the question; so hard to acknowledge that it needed to be asked. She could practically hear Xander shrug.

"Sleeping," he answered. "When she's not crying."

Oh, God. Willow... "Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't think so. Not now." He paused. "Buffy -- she'll be o.k. We'll get her through this. Things are already looking up. We're not dead." He hurriedly added, "We're not -- right? Everyone's o.k.? I mean, except for... I mean nothing's changed since I talked to Giles?"

"All present and accounted for." That was at least something to be thankful about.

"Good," he said with obvious relief. "I thought so. You'd tell me, right?"

"Of course." She smiled. "You're always the first person I think of when horrible things happen."

"And that means so much to me."

"Xander..." Her voice faded as the words failed her.

"You still there?" Xander asked after she didn't continue. "Got some words of wisdom? Can always use words of wisdom."

No, definitely not wisdom, Buffy thought. Just confusion and questions. Like, how could you do this to us, Willow? How could you let it get that far?

But of course that just sounded petty and selfish when the words actually got as far the tip of her tongue.   Instead Buffy said, "We don't deserve you, Xander. You're so good to us."

"So, now you figure it out."

She clutched the phone, suddenly feeling a desperate need to be with them; and yet at the same time, she knew she didn't belong there. She couldn't deny that it stung a little. Still, "I love you so much. Both of you." Because of course she still did. It was just that it might be a little harder to show Willow that for a while. A little harder to feel it. Almost guiltily, Buffy added, "She knows that, right? You'll tell her?"

"I'll tell her," he promised. "We'll call you later."

She shut off the phone and walked down the deck's steps, heading over to the chairs. She sat down, stretching her legs out and lifting her face up to the sun. It felt so warm, so comforting. So nice to just be sitting out here in the peace and quiet, the only sound being the birds chirping and the crunch of potato chips.

Who was munching on potato chips?

She sat up straight and whirled around, causing Graham to jump back and drop a bag as he yelled, "Shit! Don't scare me like that!"

"Where did those come from?" Buffy asked. "How did you get those?" They most certainly hadn't come from her kitchen. Though she may have been a little out of it, she would have noticed chips.

Graham held out the bag as he came into the yard. "I make it a point to never be without snacks if at all possible. I've also got Pop Tarts and chocolate chip cookies."

Chocolate chip cookies? In the jungle? "The chocolate doesn't melt?"

"Oh, no," Graham said, taking another chip out of the bag. "It totally does. But if you try really hard, you can pretend that they're just out of the oven."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Does that really work?"

"Not usually," he admitted. "It depends on how long it's been since you've seen civilization. Or how bad the night before was."

Well, yes. She could see how that would be. "You have any extra?"

Graham grinned. "I'll get the cookies; you get the milk."

"You're on." She jumped up, running inside to get the glasses and milk. She was back outside in less than a minute. "Finally!" she said when Graham reappeared another minute later, arms laden with cookies and chips.

"Geez," he muttered. "A little hungry?"

"So hungry. I don't think I've eaten since breakfast yesterday." She yanked open the bag and downed four cookies before offering some to Graham.

He stared at her, saying, "Uh, no thanks. I'll stick with chips." He held one up. "You know -- potato. It's a vegetable. It's good for you."

Buffy ate another cookie. "I can sort of see the just-out-of-oven thing. They're all warm and melty." She decided to be delicate and finish chewing before she spoke again. "So is this how you guys eat when you're in the jungle?"

"The first few days," he said. "The good stuff's gone pretty quick."

So then what? "You don't eat bugs -- do you?"

"Only dead ones," he answered. It actually seemed he was serious.

"Ick." She put the cookies down.

"You concentrate on the crunch not the taste."

Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "Really?"

Graham smiled. He tore open a Pop Tart packet and gave her one. "So you were really dead, huh?"

She nodded.

"Well, welcome back."

"Thanks," she said, smiling.

"It must be weird."

"Yeah." That would be a good way to describe it. That is, if she felt like describing it.

"O.k. Not a topic of discussion. I get it."

She shrugged. "It's not easy to talk about."

Graham nodded.

Buffy ate another cookie, thinking this was all well and good, but there was a huge elephant sitting here with them and she was damned well going to get rid of it. "You're not going to take him away again, are you?"

Graham looked at her. "It's not my call."

Fine, then. "Whose is it?"

There seemed to be a debate going on in his head before he finally answered, "A lot of people who don't give a shit about what I say. But after last night he'll probably be able to write his own ticket; for a little while at least."

"He did good, huh?" she asked. She had to admit, she was a little bit proud. Her Riley. Kind of. "He said he got a couple."

Graham gave her an odd look. "Is that what he said? Yeah -- more like six."

She sat up straight. "Six? By himself?" Was he trying to get himself killed? Once in the last two days wasn't enough?

"We were spread a little thin," Graham said guardedly.

Not that stopped her from barreling on ahead, of course. "You guys aren't on those super-drugs anymore, are you? Six is a lot. He shouldn't be doing that."

Graham shook his head and looked away, his whole demeanor changing. "Is that how it happened last time?"

How what happened? "What do you mean?"

Graham paused before saying, "Don't ask that of him. If you love him even half as much as he loves you, just don't do it."

Oh. "I'm not-"

"The thing is," Graham continued, cutting her off. "He'd probably do it. Even after what happened, he'd probably do it again. If you asked him."

She looked down. "It's just because-"

"Because what?" he snapped. "You love him? You're trying to protect him? He doesn't need that. He didn't then, and he really doesn't now."

O.k. That annoyed her. "What -- because you're his protector now? Is that why this is your business?"

Graham stood up and started pacing. "No, it's my business because for three months I watched some stranger tear his way through the jungle, picking fights he had no business winning. I was the one who had to pick his bloody body off the ground when whatever was driving him wasn't enough to keep him standing." He stopped and turned to her. "You know? I'm not exactly happy that he took on six vamps either, but it's his job. He's really good at it. And if that's what it takes to keep him out of the hell he was in, then that's good enough for me."

Buffy sat there in stunned silence. Three months of picking fights? Riley? His bloody body? She looked down. "I had no idea."

"No, I figured you didn't." Graham sat back down, leaning back in the chair and staring straight ahead. "I'm sorry. It really isn't my business. I just... I don't know if he could survive that again. I know I can't."

She didn't respond, just sat there eating cookies.

"Are you going to eat that whole bag?" Graham finally asked.

She shook her head and held it out to him. "Thank you."

Graham looked up. "For what? The cookies? Or for behaving completely inappropriately?"

She smiled at his not so good effort to apologize. "For keeping him alive. For giving us a second chance."

"Oh," Graham said, obviously surprised that she hadn't torn his head off. "You're welcome."

They sat in silence again, but comfortably so. After a little while, Buffy turned to Graham and asked, "So do you have any good stories from last year? It would be nice to hear about apocalypses that I had absolutely nothing to do with."

Graham laughed. "A few."

"Well, let's hear them," she said.

"Hmm. Well it had nothing to do with the world ending, but did he tell you how he got his scar?"

"Unh-uh." She took a drink of milk and settled back into her chair.

=======================================

When Riley opened his eyes again, it was dark. He couldn't figure out what had woken him up until he realized that Dawn was standing over him.

"You're not Buffy," she said.

He sat up -- much too fast, unfortunately, according to the screaming of every muscle throughout his body. "Not the last time I checked."

"Does that hurt?" Dawn asked, pointing at what he assumed was the bruise on his chest.

To be perfectly honest, "Yes." It hurt like hell.

She stared at him with that piercing I-know-you're-going-to-lie-to-me-but-I'm-going-to-ask-you-the-question-anyway gaze. "What did you do last night?"

Actually, Riley had no intention of lying to her. Even if he'd had the intention, he wouldn't have had the energy. "Mostly got beat on by vampires. You?"

"Lots of stuff. Mostly not fun." Dawn shrugged and looked away. "Killed a monster, though." A small grin broke through. "Totally surprised Buffy with this cool rolling dive and then I cut the thing's head off."

Riley smiled. The tears were still lurking in her eyes, but it was nice she had something to smile about. "That's great, Dawn."

Eagerly, she asked, "You think maybe she'll let me go patrolling now?"

"Probably not." As in no way in hell. "It's worth a shot, though. Could you maybe hand me that shirt?" He was not at all comfortable sitting here practically naked in Buffy's bed while Dawn stood over him. This was precisely why he rarely spent the night here after Buffy moved back home. That and the time he ran into Mrs. Summers in the middle of the night when he had nothing on but a pair of boxers.

Dawn sat down on the edge of the bed, still excited about her conquest. "Sure. So she didn't tell you? Buffy? That I killed the monster?"

"We haven't exactly talked much." Riley pulled the shirt on over his head, easing it slowly past the bruises and bandages.

She nodded. "'Cause you were boinking?"

Riley's mouth dropped open and he felt a rush of heat as the blush covered his face. "No. Sleeping." Mostly. "Were you looking for Buffy?"

"Oh. Right. The police are here -- they need to get into Willow and..." Her voice caught and suddenly all traces of excitement were gone. She took a few ragged breaths before continuing. "Willow's room. Something about a crime scene. And Xander called; he said he's bringing Willow over soon."

She was so sad, and trying so hard not to show it. All he wanted to do was reach out and hug her and just make it go away. Not that this was going away anytime soon. And besides, that would just be way too weird without any pants on. Way too weird. "That's great. About Willow, I mean. I can talk to the police if you want."

"O.k.," she said, standing up. "You probably want to get dressed. I'll go now." She paused and turned as she reached the door. "Riley?" she asked. "Do you think she'll be the same as she was last night? She was just so...harsh."

'She' meaning Willow, Riley assumed. He'd wondered about that -- about what had gone down between Willow and the others. Buffy had brushed off his questions but he figured there was something more to it than just Buffy being tired.

He grabbed his jeans and made Dawn turn around as he put them on. This conversation seemed about to be more heart-to-heart than he was willing to do in a half-naked state. Plus it gave him some time to figure out how to answer the question. No matter what he said, there was no denying the fact that things were going to be rough for a while.

"I think Willow loves you very much," he finally said. "And whatever she said or did last night doesn't change that."

"So the answer is 'yes,'" Dawn snapped. "That she's still going to be all witchy." She came back into the room, returning to her perch on the edge of the bed. "But we love Tara, too. We're sad, too."

"Yeah. I know," Riley said, his heart breaking as he watched Dawn try to hide her tears. "But I think she's so sad and angry right now that she doesn't see that. And it's probably all so close to the surface that it's hard for her to control who she takes it out on." As he spoke, vivid images from those first few months away from Sunnydale came rushing back. He had to admit, he felt some sympathy for Willow, despite what she had done. He'd been pretty much in the same place not that long ago. Luckily for him, his violence was government sanctioned. Well, and he didn't quite have the power to destroy the world.

"Maybe she should try," Dawn muttered, looking away, furiously brushing the tears off her cheeks. "It's kind of hard to feel sorry for her when she's being so mean."

Riley put his hand on Dawn's shoulder. Graham could probably speak better to that one, but, "Somehow it seems to turn out o.k. in the end."

"'Cause we Summers women are tough?" Dawn asked, a small smile breaking through the tears.

"Yeah," he said, pulling her in for a hug. "Something like that." He waited until her tears had subsided before saying, "So, the police?"

"Oh. Right." She jumped up. "They're waiting downstairs."

Probably not very happily, Riley thought, given how much time had elapsed from when Dawn first entered the room. They could deal.

He would have preferred to have greeted them in something a little more official looking than black jeans and a gray shirt. That would have to do, though, because his uniform was a lost cause. The black hid most of the blood, but it was torn in a few places, not to mention caked with dust and gravel -- not exactly presentable. The pants would be o.k. after a washing; the shirt, though? It was going to have to be thrown out. The reason for the Kevlar vests was coming back to him.

Riley headed downstairs and, after making sure that the police were there because of Tara's death and not on some hunt for Willow, he led them back up. It occurred to him that he didn't really know for sure which one was Willow's room, but it had to be Mrs. Summers'. That was confirmed as soon as he opened the door. It was hard to mistake that smell for anything else.

It didn't take them too long to get the tape up. The crime scene team said the detectives would probably be back in the next day or so, but there had been a commotion at the police station the night before so everything was backed up. The technician assured Riley that the investigation was still a priority, though, and every effort would be made to track down the shooter.

Riley just nodded. He had a feeling the shooter was no longer a problem, based on the fact that Willow tore apart the police station to get to Jonathan and Andrew. They probably wouldn't have been on her hit list unless Warren was dead. Which reminded him that he needed to talk to Buffy about what had happened to said prisoners since he was now responsible for them. That was going to go over real well with Command.

But all that could wait until tomorrow, he thought, as he thanked the investigator and closed the front door. Riley headed into the kitchen, stopping when he saw that Giles was already in there, slowly reaching for a glass from the cabinet. Dawn was there, too, and the two of them were talking about something ridiculously innocuous. Breakfast cereals or something like that.

Taking a deep breath -- Riley had a feeling Giles might have a little more to say to him than 'welcome home' -- he walked in and sat down next to Dawn on one of the stools.

Giles paused when he saw Riley. Then he held up the bottle that was on the counter in front of him. "Scotch?"

Riley shook his head. At the moment, just the thought of alcohol made him feel ill. He turned to Dawn. "Did you find Buffy?"

She shrugged, seeming remarkably unconcerned. "I'm sure she's around somewhere. I didn't really look. What do you think about ordering pizza?"

As with the alcohol, he'd rather not think about it. "Not really that hungry."

There was the sharp sound of Giles' glass as he brought it heavily to the counter. "Dawn, why don't you decide what you want and go ahead and order it. I'm sure whatever you choose will be more than acceptable."

Dawn glared at Giles as she slid off the stool. "You could have just said you want me out of the room because you wanted to talk to Riley." She rolled her eyes. "I understand those kinds of things."

Giles smiled as she left the kitchen. "I keep forgetting how much she's grown. Even just in the last few months. Don't you think?"

Looking down at the counter in front of him, Riley answered, "Everyone has. I hear it was quite a year."

"Yours as well?" Giles leaned back against the sink.

Riley was thinking that maybe he would have that Scotch after all. He stood up and went over to get a glass. "It had its moments."

"I expect it was quite a journey." Giles unscrewed the top of the bottle and poured some for Riley, then topped off his own.

"Quite." Riley took a sip, closing his eyes as the Scotch traveled down his throat. He willed it not to come back up. "Got to see a lot of places."

Giles smiled. "That's not what I meant."

"No," Riley muttered, putting the glass back down in front of him. "I didn't think so."

Riley waited for Giles to say something, but nothing else came. Though he was usually pretty good with this game, it was different with Giles. This was more like getting in trouble with Dad after being caught spending the night at his girlfriend's house. Dad didn't care that she had been the one to invite Riley over, just said Riley should have known better. There hadn't been any yelling then, either. Just that quiet disapproval that was ten times worse.

"I know I screwed up." Riley looked down at his hands. "It won't happen again." Sir, he almost added.

"I would hope not," Giles said, finishing off his drink. "Especially considering that you're a married man now. You have your own family to take care of."

Yup. Thought there was going to be more to that subject than the nice pat on the shoulder. "I don't, actually."

"No?"

Riley shook his head an forced himself to look Giles in the eye. "Brought my wife to Sunnydale. She said I was still in love with Buffy and I'd be a fool to mess it up again. Told me to pack my bags."

Giles' expression didn't change. He still had a vague smile on his face. A vague smile tinged with disapproval. "Interesting woman."

'Interesting.' Good word for it. Riley tried to keep his grin to himself. "Yes, she is."

Giles looked away for a moment. "Buffy's still fragile. She's not the same girl you knew. I'm not sure if this is what she needs right now."

There were a lot of things Giles had every right to say to Riley; a lot of things that Riley wouldn't even begin to quarrel with. That wasn't one of them. "Is that really your choice to make?"

His eyes turning hard, Giles answered, "There are things she needs to learn for herself."

Riley understood that. He really did. However, "I know I may not be what she needs, or even what she wants." Though Giles' stare was unnerving, Riley refused to look away. He picked up his glass and turned it in his hands. "Until she tells me to go, I'm staying."

Giles refilled his glass. "Even if she can't be who you want her to be?"

Who Riley wanted her to be. That was the question. A question he had spent a lot of time thinking about over the last year. Wondering what might have happened if there hadn't been a transport waiting to take him away. If she had somehow forgiven him and taken him back.

Would that have been enough? Could he have managed with the knowledge that she could never love him the way he loved her? Would never open up her heart and soul to him because her heart belonged to Angel and her soul belonged to...everyone. To the whole damn world. And no matter how much he tried to be what she wanted, no matter how many hoops he tried to leap through... No matter how much or how many, it would never be enough because what she wanted was something she could never have. It wasn't humanly possible to give her what she wanted because what she wanted wasn't human.

Quite a question.

And yet, sitting here, Riley realized he had finally found his answer. Found it in the middle of the rainforest with his rifle in his hands and his clothes sticking to his back as the water dripped down his neck. Found it on the edge of a desert, his face touched by sand as old as time. Found it on the top of an ice-capped mountain, higher than he ever thought he'd be.

Somewhere along the way, he had become whole again. The emptiness in his heart hadn't been because of what she couldn't give, it was because of what he had lost within himself. Strength and courage and honor and peace. Not what she had taken; what he had let slip away.

Turned out that for all this time he'd been asking the wrong question. The question was never who he wanted her to be. It went much deeper than that. The question was: who was he?

Not that that was an easy question, either. And not one that could be answered in a year. But it made everything else a lot clearer. It made him realize that if by some freak twist of fate he was ever given a second chance he wasn't going to waste it wondering if he was enough for her. He wasn't going to wonder, period. He was going to show her. Show her rainforests and deserts and mountains. Show her prairies and cornfields. Show her heaven on Earth underneath an Iowa sky.

And maybe he'd never stir her soul, maybe he'd never set her blood on fire. But he could win her heart. Because the heart didn't belong to the vampire world -- the heart was human. Warm and pulsing and full of love. The life he could give her. If he got a second chance.

"I'm not leaving her again." Riley looked up at Giles. "And if she lets me, I promise you I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy. Anything else is between her and me."

After what seemed like forever, Giles nodded and smiled, tipping back his glass.

Another test? Riley wasn't quite sure if he had passed this one, but Giles must have decided that it was enough, because he started asking Riley about Belize and the Army. They were in the midst of a discussion about the right amount of firepower to use against Tamor demons, when they heard voices and footsteps on the back deck. The door opened and Buffy and Graham walked in, laughing and carrying empty bags of various types of junk food.

"So you guys finally woke up," Buffy said, smiling at the look on Riley's face. "Graham's been telling me stories."

"Really." Riley had to admit, he was a little stunned. It was one thing for Graham to give Buffy a ride home and for Buffy to offer Graham a bed to sleep in. Those were the kinds of things you did after a tough fight. Actual conversation, though? "How long were you guys out there?"

Buffy looked at the clock. "A couple of hours."

Graham smiled. "Close your mouth, Ri. We can be civilized adults."

"No," Buffy said. "Don't close it." She came over and put her arms around Riley's neck, kissed him in a way that she usually didn't do in public.

Riley pulled back and saw a twinkle in her eye. She was putting on a show, not that Riley minded. Maybe she'd gotten in trouble, too -- Riley wouldn't put it past Graham to make his opinions known. He certainly hadn't held back at any point over the past year.

She turned to Giles. "So do we have a plan? Did Xander call back?"

"Xander's coming with Willow," Dawn said, coming back into the room. She hit Riley on the shoulder. "Not bad," she mouthed.

Riley smiled. He assumed she was talking about what she'd just said to Giles. "Eavesdropping?"

She was saved from answering by the sound of the front door opening and Anya's voice saying, "She's not an invalid, Xander. She can walk into the house on her own."

"I know that, Anya," came the terse reply. "I'm just trying to be polite. I realize that's not a concern for vengeance demons but we humans try it out every once in a while."

A second later, Xander appeared in the doorway, followed closely by an irritated Anya and a hesitant Willow. "Did anybody think about dinner?" he asked. "I'm really hungry."

"Pizza's on its way." Dawn grabbed a stack of dishes and handed them to Xander. "Here. Be useful."

Xander put them on the counter and sat down on the stool. "I was very useful this morning. I find that it's tiring. Someone else can do it."

Anya picked up the stack of dishes and shoved it against his chest. "Set the table, Xander. You may have saved the world, but everyone else was busy, too." She grabbed a bunch of napkins and followed him into the dining room.

As their bickering faded into the background, Willow said, "Who would've thought that trying to end the world might have brought them back together?"

"I know you were worried about them..." Buffy took a few tentative steps towards Willow. "Maybe next time you could be a little less dramatic?"

Willow nodded and closed her eyes as tears spilled over. She was immediately enclosed in Buffy's and Dawn's arms and led into the living room.

Riley watched them leave and then turned to Graham. "We should probably go."

"No." Giles put his glass in the sink. "We'll need to know the full extent of the damage. We're going to have to talk about what happens next. You should be here." He followed the others into the living room.

Graham shrugged, "Your call."

Not a hard one to make.

By the time the pizza came, there had been half an hour of almost normal conversation. The tension was still there, but for now everyone seemed willing to do whatever was necessary to just get through the night. Taking it one step at a time. It wasn't until after dinner, when the talk turned to the ramifications of the previous night, that Willow's tears came. Mostly silent tears just streaming down her face. Buffy grabbed Willow's hand and Xander put his arm around Willow's shoulders.

Anya gestured at Riley and Graham, asking Giles, "Are you sure they should be here? Aren't they obligated to tell someone whatever they hear?"

"We're not the police," Graham answered. "They barely even know we exist."

Yeah, true. Except that this had all been traumatic enough. His eyes on Willow, Riley added, "But we don't need to be here if it makes anyone-"

Willow cut him off with one glance. "Riley stays. Graham can, too."

"And Spike?" Giles said. "Does anyone know where he is?"

"Spike's gone," Buffy snapped.

"Good riddance," Xander muttered.

Which is what Riley was thinking. He was glad he hadn't been the one to say anything, though, because Xander's comment had obviously made Buffy mad. Her cheeks bright red, she warned, "Don't. Just don't start."

She didn't seem to want to look at Riley as she said it and he didn't really want to look at her. He was glad that Willow said, "Could we get on with this?"

Everyone looked at Giles except for Dawn, who turned to Riley. "Tell them what the police said."

"The police?" Buffy asked sharply. "The police were here? When?"

"Why?" Xander added.

"Earlier this evening. Putting up yellow tape. Taking samples." Riley turned to Willow. "They said detectives would come tomorrow or the next day. 'Identifying the shooter is a priority.' They'll most likely want to question you."

"About Warren?" Xander said.

Riley nodded, forcing himself to meet Willow's gaze. The one that was haunted and lost and icy cold. It cut a little too close to home.

Buffy's voice cut through the not-so-welcome memories. "Will they ask what's happened to him?"

Shrugging, Riley answered, "Probably not. They probably won't make any connection with... where he is now." Which several people in this room clearly knew, considering the three sets of eyes that were suddenly looking at anything but him. Not Willow's though; she met his stare with one of her own.

"But you should still have a lawyer," Graham said to Willow. He had obviously seen the reaction, too. And he probably remembered enough from Riley's explanation to know that Warren was the one she was after. "We can recommend someone who's dealt with this kind of thing before. She's really good; and the police here aren't that smart. So you should be o.k."

"You mean I'll get off?" Willow spat out as she abruptly pulled away from Buffy and Xander. "I won't go to jail? Isn't that where I belong?" She turned to Riley, her voice bitter. "What would you do with someone like me? Is there some secret prison somewhere where they strip away the magic? Make me into what I was before?"

Riley glanced at Graham before answering. "Actually, we'd probably hire you. Maybe even give you a medal."

"This isn't something to joke about," Buffy said.

Graham responded, "He's not joking."

Buffy sat back in her chair, looking unsettled. "Oh. That's kind of, well, disturbing."

"Your tax dollars at work," Riley mumbled. And although he could see her point, that wasn't what he considered 'disturbing' right now. Willow was. Willow's eyes to be more specific. Grieving and pained; angry and full of hate. No interest in her own salvation because she had no interest in being saved. Something he remembered all too well.

"Moving on," Giles said. There was a cold look in his eyes; not at all that of the genial father-figure Riley remembered. "Did your injuries have anything to do with Willow?"

Before Riley could figure out how to respond, Graham answered, "Yes."

"Oh, God." Willow leaned forward with her head in her hands, tears flowing again.

Riley glared at Graham. He recognized what Graham was doing, but Willow didn't need that. She didn't need it thrown in her face. Not right now. "It's unclear," he said, which was kind of true. No one ever said that Marta Oakdell was right, after all. "There was some kind of convergence on Sunnydale, but it may not have had anything to do with anything else that was going on."

"Thanks, Riley." Willow's head came back up again as her tears faded. "I appreciate the effort, but don't bother." The coldness of her voice was in direct contrast to her words. She sat back in her chair and looked at Graham, recognizing the only person in the room who didn't care that much about protecting her feelings. The only person she seemed to be responding to. "What happened?"

"Vampires," Graham said, leaning forward. "Demons. Taking advantage of the diversion."

"Was anyone else...?" Willow asked quietly.

Though Graham may have been willing to put it all out there, he certainly wasn't heartless. "A couple of minor injuries." He smiled. "Nothing unusual by Sunnydale standards."

Dawn pointed at the gash on Riley's forehead. "That's not unusual? I don't remember you ever coming back with bruises like the one on..." She blushed, probably because she was just about to mention the bruises she'd seen on his much too naked chest. Too naked, at least, for the sister of your, well, whatever Buffy was at the moment. Riley didn't blame her; he wasn't at all happy with it either. Thankfully, Dawn just said, "Like the one you have."

Raising his eyebrow a bit, Graham -- also thankfully -- didn't comment other than to say, "Well, maybe that's a little bit worse than normal, but don't cry for him. He's probably getting a promotion out of this."

A promotion? Riley thought. Really?

"A promotion?" Buffy asked, kind of proud it seemed, although also kind of pissed off. "For killing six vampires? And I don't even get paid. There is something so wrong with this picture."

Graham shook his head. "Total kill count was forty-two vamps, twenty-three demons between the town, the graveyards, and the woods -- and that doesn't count the ones that got scared away. If things had gone according to Command's original orders, the demons would have taken over Sunnydale, we probably would have lost a lot of men going after Willow, and Willow would have the U.S. Army tracking her down right now. I think that's worth a promotion -- don't you?"

Well... Damn. Riley had thought about the repercussions if he failed; not so much what would happen if he succeeded. He actually felt kind of sick. A promotion off of all this pain. There was something wrong with that. He had to turn away as everyone looked at him.

"Xander and Riley -- saving the day," Xander said, clapping Riley on the shoulder. "Thank you, Willow, for allowing us to get our manhood back from you girls."

Anya leaned over to Xander. "You're liking yourself very much right now. Be quiet."

"Yes, ma'am." Xander grinned as he caught the smile on Anya's face before she turned away.

Buffy was looking thoughtful. Too much so, actually, as she turned to Giles and asked, "Did you know that would happen? The demons?"

Shrugging, Giles answered, "It makes sense. I didn't know for sure, but I'm not surprised."

Now it wasn't so much thoughtful as supremely pissed off. "And you didn't say anything?"

"For one thing, there wasn't much time," Giles snapped. "For another, I didn't think there was anything you could do about it." He looked at Buffy pointedly. "Now, perhaps if you had told me that Riley was not only alive but back here in Sunnydale, I might have mentioned it."

This wasn't really a conversation Riley wanted to be part of. And he was not at all happy to be the focus of anyone's attention, much less a drag-out fight between Buffy and Giles, which seemed to be an imminent possibility.

Thankfully, he wasn't the only one reading the signals. Before Buffy could respond, Dawn asked, "Does anyone want more Coke?"

Good idea, Riley thought as he stood up. "I'll get it." The Tylenol was starting to wear off and the headache that had never really gone away was trumpeting its presence with a steady pounding. A change of scene wouldn't be the worst idea; at the very least, maybe he could find that Scotch again. Take his mind off things. Graham was talking more than enough for the both of them and Riley wanted some fresh air.

That was one of the good things about the Army -- there wasn't much of an opportunity to think. You kill, you conquer, you don't have to worry about the consequences. You accepted that or you resigned your commission. Or you got court-martialed, but that was another story.

He walked into the kitchen, turning around when he realized there was someone right behind him. Dawn.

She headed to the fridge. "I actually wanted more Coke; you just wanted to get out of there."

Great. "Was it that obvious?"

"I don't think so, but I didn't feel like waiting for you to do whatever it is you were going to do. I'm thirsty." She grabbed two cans of Coke and offered him one.

"Thanks." He took the can and opened it. Drank the whole thing down in one gulp.

She stared at him. "You need some fresh air." Before he could even think about pretending to protest, she pushed him out the back door and handed him the phone. "Here. I'll tell them you had to talk to somebody. Take the phone with you."

Tonight wasn't a night when excuses were needed. He put the phone back on its hook. He'd just needed a minute away. Truly. "It's really o.k."

"No, it's not," she said, a little too perceptively. "You have a really weird look on your face. Is it because of the Spike stuff? I don't think you need to worry about that."

He didn't need a fifteen-year-old kid to be his therapist. "Dawn..."

Not that she agreed, saying, "Well, whatever it is, get over it and come back inside."

Right. Whatever it is. Just get over it. Not quite that easy. On second thought, maybe he could use some air.

He opened the door and went out on the deck, leaning against the railing and looking up at the stars. After seeing so much death over the past year, it seemed that it should be easier to deal with; that he should have come up with some way to handle the bad stuff better. But it was always worse than he remembered. And having it be Tara... Sweet, shy, innocent Tara. Wrong place, wrong time. Horribly, tragically wrong.

Which made the beautiful night seem that much more jarring. Warm breeze, clear skies. Made no sense when there was so much anger and so much hurt. It seemed impossible that it was all because of love.

He understood, though; understood the emptiness. As much as he empathized with Buffy and Dawn and Giles and Xander, he ached for Willow. For what she had yet to go through. She was about to find out what he'd learned the hard way -- that it wasn't the first night that was the worst. It actually barely counted. Even if Willow hadn't gone off on some rampage and this was just your run-of-the-mill devastating grief, the first night was nothing. The first night was when you were still in shock. In total denial. Not really believing that your whole world had just changed. Somehow, it seemed, that when you woke up everything would be right again.

The second night, though -- that was the killer. That was when you realized you really were alone. That nothing would ever be the same again. That no matter what you did, you could never take back what had happened, and you'd have to live with it for the rest of your life.

Unless, of course, you decided you didn't want to. Live, that is.

Not that this was the same -- it obviously wasn't. What Willow had gone through was a million times worse. Seeing Tara die. Being ready to destroy the world because there was nothing left to live for.

No. Riley's reasons for self-destruction hadn't been even close to noble. His loss hadn't been due to death, just to some stupid, idiotic, ridiculous mistake. One he could never take back. And no matter how much he and Buffy seemed to be dealing with it for the time being, it would always be there. With reminders that were impossible to ignore.

Sometimes Riley wondered what would have happened if he hadn't left. If he had been there to see her fall. Would it have been better somehow because she did it to save the world? Would that have made it easier to live with? Or would it have just been one more reminder that he was too weak, too helpless. That he would never be enough of a man for her. That he couldn't keep her safe. That he would never be able to.

But he had been given a reprieve. By some harsh twist of fate, he had escaped. Kind of. 'Escape' didn't exactly an accurate description. More like, good-bye frying pan, hello fire. Confronting his own demons, seeing his own death; caring so little about his own life that it was just another thing to throw away.

He could see it, all of it -- the hatred and loathing emanating from Willow's soul. Despising a world that made no sense; disgusted by the futility of those around you. A revulsion so strong that it dwarfed everything else; everything except the contempt for the weakness you felt deep within you. He could feel the grief washing over him, the pain he had felt every day for those first few months coming back in a rush. Emptiness and loss. Crushing him. Suffocating him to the point where it hurt to just be. Desperately trying to find the strength to fight the wracking sobs that were always one breath away. Reliving every moment; every wrong turn. Killing his way out of the darkness, one demon at a time.

It was written all over Willow's face so clearly; he could feel it with each pained breath she took. And he knew he wasn't just imagining it, because Graham saw it, too. Riley had no doubt -- the way Graham was handling this was the same way he had dealt with Riley -- making Riley understand the consequences, forcing him to see the new reality; laying it all out on the table because it was the only way to make it to the other side.

The only way, maybe, but it was a brutal road. It seemed like the hardest thing in the world to be going through it, except maybe when you watched it happen to someone else. Ice cream and chocolate weren't going to make this better. There would be anger and hate and lashing out at everyone who gave a damn about you. And nightmares to remind you that you'd find no escape when you closed your eyes.

Maybe it wasn't the only way. Maybe there was another way, but Riley certainly hadn't found it.

"Was it something we said?" Buffy asked, surprising him as she let the screen door fall closed behind her.

"What?"

"You left kind of abruptly," she said, a smile hovering on her lips.

Riley wasn't really in the mood to return the smile. Turning his back on her, he leaned his elbows on the deck's railing and looked out into the yard. "Yeah, I guess I did. Sorry."

She seemed to be waiting for an explanation; she wasn't going to get one. Which didn't stop her from continuing the conversation, of course, with, "Congratulations."

"For what?" he asked, although he knew full well what she meant.

She rolled her eyes. "Your promotion. For saving Sunnydale. For being the hero."

'Hero.' Right. Hardly. "I found someone to give me an excuse for not sending eighty men after Willow. So that she could kill a man and have one more thing to eat away at her for the rest of her life."

Riley could hear the screen spring back a bit as Buffy pushed off of it, saying, "The way Graham was talking it could have been a lot worse."

"I guess." This was not something he wanted to talk about. It still made him vaguely ill. "Not that Graham wasn't talking out of his ass -- he does that sometimes."

The smile came back to her face. "I noticed."

Not having much to say to that, Riley was quiet. After a few minutes, he asked, "So she really killed him?"

"Do you really want me to tell you?" Her hand went to his arm; she smoothed out the sleeve. "Couldn't it get you in trouble?"

"Maybe," he answered as her hand fell away. "Probably. So, no, I guess not."

Buffy nodded and hiked herself up onto the railing. "Do you think other people are happy? That they're sitting on their porches, swinging on their swings, and not knowing that everything's falling apart around them?" Her voice caught a bit. "I wonder what it would be like to be one of those people." She grabbed Riley's hand and leaned her head on his shoulder. "She's not going to be the same again, is she?"

She couldn't actually be waiting for an answer on that. Still, "Probably not."

Buffy pulled away; looked down at the ground, mumbling, "Thank you for loving my friends so much."

He turned to her. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "It's... This could have been so much more devastating."

Yeah. More devastating. Hard to believe, and yet so very true. God. And there was still so much further to go. Riley suddenly felt his throat tightening up and his eyes start to burn. Not a good sign. Especially because Buffy was staring at him. Hard.

He tried to look away but she grabbed his chin and pulled him back to her, saying, "It's o.k., you know."

O.k.? O.k. to...? Was she seriously telling him it was o.k. to cry? Buffy-my-mother-may-be-dying-but-I'm-not-going-to-shed-a-tear-in-your-presence-Summers? "That's a good one," he muttered. He pulled away -- maybe a little too forcefully -- from Buffy and walked into the yard. Plopped himself down into one of the chairs.

She followed him to the chairs and sat down on the footrest across from him, looking far too shrewd at the moment. "Are you o.k.?"

Good question. Excellent fucking question. Unfortunately, he didn't have much of an answer other than, "I don't know."

He'd done exactly what he was supposed to do. Kept the public safe. Stayed out of Buffy's way. Saved entire regiments from being annihilated by Willow. So why did he still feel like shit?

Buffy leaned forward to touch his knee. "It's not your job to save everyone," she said, reading his mind much too well.

"Oh, right," he snapped. "Sorry. That's the Slayer's job."

"Hey," she said sharply, sitting back. "Don't you start, too." She stood up and walked a few steps away, folding her arms across her chest. "Bad Willow seems to have hijacked my best friend again; Giles and Graham are talking about lawyers; Xander and Anya have, well, I swear I saw them actually smile at each other; and Dawn is taking it all in without pulling any hissy fits which means that absolutely nothing in this world is making sense right now." She turned back to him. "I don't think I can handle it if you wig out on me, too."

He looked up at her. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that." Shouldn't have gone into attack mode. "That was totally uncalled for."

"Completely totally," she said. Quite emphatically.

"It just... It brings everything back. All the bad stuff." Riley leaned forward and reached for her hand. Pulled her back down until she was sitting in front of him again. "Remember how it used to be so simple? How everything just worked? Going out and fighting bad guys. Side by side with the woman I love. It should have been so easy. It was so easy. So right. In my whole life I've never been as happy as I was that summer with you. Do you think that's really possible? To be truly happy?"

"I didn't. Not until..." She could feel her eyes welling up. She couldn't do this. Not if he didn't believe it. He needed to -- that was what had always kept her going. Even after he left, his words were the only things that gave her hope that life could be like that. Could be something good. "Not until you showed me." She was desperately trying not to cry. Trying to give him the comfort he needed, something she had failed miserably at so many times before. "Some ridiculous thing you said about not doing it alone."

He smiled sadly. "Right. Worked out pretty well, didn't it? Good thing you trusted me." He let go of her hand. "God, I am so... So damn sorry.   I wish I could go back. Just figure out the moment it changed. Just erase it and put everything back the way it was. Maybe it would have made things right."

"No," she said, losing the battle as the tears spilled over. "It was a pretty good moment; it just got handled badly."

"Really." He sounded skeptical. Looked even more so as he sat back. "And you can name the exact moment."

She nodded. It hadn't been too hard to figure out once she started thinking about it.

His fingers drummed the arm of the chair. "O.k. Try me."

She leaned her head back and looked up at the stars, somewhere far, far away. It had been quite a shock, that moment. When everything became clear. When she saw everything for the first time. Angel's fault, really. Faith's too. Buffy had always found it ironic that her first love and Riley's first betrayal had made her see it.

And it was doubly ironic that after seeing it, it was so overwhelming that she was so afraid to lose it. So afraid that she built herself a box and climbed right in. Closing it up tight every time Riley did something else that touched her heart. Every time he bought Dawn ice cream or grabbed a book from the top shelf for Willow or laughed at one of Xander's jokes. Every time he stowed the stake in the back of his waistband or grabbed the taser as he went out the door.

Because every single thing Riley did, every single time she could feel her chest swell with contentment -- every moment of happiness -- was followed by an icy, cold voice that told her with the greatest certainty that she would lose him, too.

That was when she stepped off the path. The first moment when things started to go wrong. If she had only told Riley what she knew to be true... But there were other moments, too; other things that she could have done differently, and still managed to have held on.

Like maybe if she had told Giles about the dreams -- the ones she had been so grateful to say good-bye to when September rolled around and they finally went away; maybe Giles could have figured out their true meaning. Or maybe if she had told Riley what she saw at night -- vampires surrounding him and drinking from him. Stealing him away as she stood there watching. Maybe if she had told Riley then it wouldn't have happened.

Instead she tried to protect him, foolishly thinking she could outwit the fates. She vowed not to let him die in her arms atop some nameless grave, victim of some vampire's lucky day. She tried to lock him up in that box with her, keeping him safe and close so that he could never leave. Stripping away his spirit because she couldn't bear to watch another man she loved slip away.

Angel's fault. And Faith's. In one clear moment.

The moment when she was overcome with rage at Faith for stealing something Buffy hadn't realized was quite so precious. The moment when she wanted to hurt Angel so badly, telling him she had a new love.

The moment when she realized that it was true. That she needed Riley in her life. Wanted him there.

The moment when she realized that her wish wasn't for death; it was for life. For the life he could offer her. The life Angel had wanted for her. A life she thought she could never have.

A moment of clarity and truth -- so much to live for. But also so much to lose. So much that it was too painful to think about; it was easier to shut down.

So many things danced in and out of their lives, clouding the truth. Making her think that the danger had passed. Weaving a shimmering veil of daydreams and fairy tales. Birthing a sleek and proud hunter who thought she could protect those she loved by locking them away.

But dreams do come true. Shadows can't be conquered. Gods aren't always good.

And love is defined by the darkness left behind when it's gone.

"It was when I fell in love with you." She looked up at him, made herself meet his eyes. "That was the moment."

He didn't respond at first, sitting back in the chair and letting her hand slip away from his knee. Looking at her, her eyes shimmering with tears. So beautiful. So clear.

Everything had become very quiet. A cricket skittered across the arm of the chair, bounding away again, an arcing leap never ending as its blackness faded into the night. A soft breeze swept through blades of grass, rippling through newly born leaves that rustled in protest. A cluster of stars so young and bright dared to sparkle in a sky so black.

A slow smile finally came over his face. ""If that moment happens again? Mention it."

She grabbed on to his outstretched hand and let him pull her into his lap, her tears spilling over as he hugged her tightly. "Riley?"

"Yeah?" He knew his voice sounded gruff. Couldn't help it.

She pulled her head back. Ran her hand down his face. "It already happened."

Looking away, he thought it was almost too much. Too many emotions threatening to spill over in a very unmanly way.

"Ri-"

He put his finger to her lips. "Tell me again later," he said, his voice -- his everything -- close to breaking. "This is good for now. This is all I need."

"All?" she asked, moving closer. So close that their lips were almost touching.

No. Maybe not all. He put his hand in her hair and drew her to him for a kiss so sweet, so slow. So right.

"I thought I lost you forever," she whispered, kissing him again; climbing into him.

His arms tightened around her. He couldn't get enough: couldn't taste enough, couldn't feel enough. Couldn't quite believe that she had just said the things she'd said.

The kissing stopped. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his chest, murmuring, "When my Mom died, someone said maybe we should sell the house. That maybe there were too many bad memories. I thought about it for, like, ten minutes. Because it's not just a house. It's not just the walls or the beams or even the paint that's peeling off the wall. It's everything. It's where I'm supposed to be." Her eyes opened wide and she looked up at him. "It's home."

Home.

Where she was supposed to be. Where they belonged.

He smiled into her eyes. Home. "There's no place like it."

THE END

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Posted June 16, 2002.